Old Enemies, New Friends
by Eleri McCleod
Summary: *WIP* Part 2 posted! A mysterious being sends Buffy and, accidentally, Angel into the Wish Dimension to correct a few mistakes.
1. Prologue

Old Enemies, New Friends  
  
By Eleri McCleod  
  
==========================  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I have no money and I'm just borrowing them anyway.   
  
Summary: A mysterious being sends Buffy and, accidentally, Angel into the Wish Dimension to correct a few mistakes.  
  
Season: Third  
  
Author's notes: A special thanks to Wanaslay for unintentionally giving me the idea for this story. You can find the original story at the SlayerFanFic Archive. It's titled "The Wish Dimension: After the Fall."  
  
I've also got to thank Ivy for her wonderful encouragement, her shared interests and most of all for cleaning this up for me. You are a gem.  
  
Finally, and definitely not least, thanks go out to everyone who wrote to tell me they wanted more. Part 2 is in the works, guys, I promise.  
  
(c) November 1999, Eleri McCleod  
  
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The shadow watched silently as the blond-haired young man shoved his stake through the heart of a vampire. Not even waiting to see it explode into dust, the teen turned to his companion, a stocky dark-haired lad, with a small grin. "Not bad for two wanna-bes."  
  
The dark one nodded back, exhaustion evident in the simple gesture. "Yeah, who needs a Slayer anyway? We're doing fine without her." Tucking his stake into a pocket, he started moving toward the mouth of the alley. "You know, ever since she killed Xander and Willow the Master has been even more determined to get rid of us. The only thing she did was cause us more trouble." The stocky human sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Could we get back to the library now? I'm beat."  
  
Unnoticed by the two speakers, the shadow separated from the sidewall of the alley, coalescing slightly to reveal a Hooded Figure, eyes glowing crimson. It sensed the wearied souls of the humans and cocked its head as if listening to something.  
  
The smaller teen stared into space for a moment, not moving to join his friend. "Larry, do you think Giles was right?" Larry stopped walking, still facing the street. "I mean about that better world. It sounds totally crazy, I know, but I want to believe in it. I want to believe that all of our struggles aren't for nothing."  
  
"Oz, all I know is that we're still here, doing the same things we were a week ago before that Slayer came and died." Finally he faced his friend, hands hanging limply at his sides. "Believe that if you can. I'm just trying to make it through each night."  
  
The Hooded Figure glided closer, arm extended. Its eyes brightened, the glow reaching far ahead to bathe the two in a red haze. And still the teens took no notice of the other alley occupant as it circled them, the red light playing off their faces.  
  
Oz nodded sympathetically. "That's what I'm trying to do, too. Larry, you can't-" His sharp eyes caught a hint of motion where street met alley behind the other teen, twenty feet away. "Run!"  
  
Without bothering to ask why, Larry took off after his friend, knowing it had to be more vampires. "Haven't they got anything else to do?" he threw out bitterly as they rounded the other end of the alley and disappeared from sight.  
  
Four vampires sprinted after them, running through the Hooded Figure's insubstantial form. In fact, paying as much attention to it as the humans had. It gazed after the demons for a moment before sighing and gliding smoothly out of the alley. "It is not fair." Although it spoke aloud, no ear, human or demon, could have ever heard it. It waited, slightly impatient for the other members of its collective consciousness to respond.  
  
"No, it is not." The voices sounded as a multitude of noise in its head, but the Hooded Figure understood each voice distinctly. "Is there a thing we would wish to do for the mortals?"  
  
"I can think of only one possibility. We will need all for this task. The aura of Anyanka permeates this world." It actually managed to sound angered as it continued its slow glide out of the alley after Oz, Larry and the demons. "Anyanka has gone too far this turn. Do we have agreement?"  
  
"We do. Fair well."  
  
The Hooded Figure acknowledged the parting of its others and gestured slightly with its hand. A red, glowing doorway opened a few steps to the front. It glided through the vortex out of Sunnydale.  
  
And back into Sunnydale. The door closed automatically, allowing the Hooded Figure to concentrate on its target. It paused, detecting the presence of a Slayer nearby. Perfect, it thought. Moving in the direction of that unique aura, the Hooded Figure gathered the loaned power of its others. Hands moved in intricate patterns, creating another doorway in the street. The door showed only a crimson haze, wavering slightly in the breeze. The Hooded Figure froze, statue-still, eyes glowing fiercely. "Come," it called into the night air. "Come to the Gateway."  
  
Suddenly, a vampire thundered onto the street closely followed by the Slayer and... Another vampire, it thought incredulously, almost losing focus on the door. But by then the first demon had reached the Hooded Figure, running through the undetected Gateway. The Slayer stumbled a step, unused to her prey vanishing in mid-stride, and fell headfirst through the portal. As did the second vampire, shouting, "Buffy!"  
  
The Hooded Figure studied the auras lingering in the Gateway, unsurprised by the roiling mass of black that was the first vampire. The Slayer's was a shimmering, swirling rainbow of colors and also expected. Yet the third, that of the other vampire, was almost as bright as the Slayer's. It focused on that unusual third, pulling it to the forefront of its vision. The Hooded Figure couldn't understand at first. The creature was a demon, nothing but the kill mattered to it. Only this exceptional aura seemed to prove otherwise. Then it saw why. "A souled vampire?" it asked its others, needed additional confirmation.  
  
"Agreed," the cacophonous voices replied. "We have done well. Return for rest. This action will take much time to complete. We will retrieve the beings when the task is finished."  
  
The Hooded Figure took one final, long look at the aura, fascinated by the dichotomy. Then it let go of the Gateway. The scarlet door faded, taking the auras with it. The Hooded Figure straightened its robe, pleased with its work. Gesturing negligently, it slid through yet another Gateway, leaving no trace of its presence on the quiet Sunnydale street. 


	2. Sunnydale?

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(c) November 1999, Eleri McCleod  
  
======================  
  
Buffy hit the ground rolling, coming up to her feet with no wasted motion. She didn't bother to check for Angel, she could feel his presence beside her as she continued after the vamp. "Isn't there some rule about Turning marathon runners?" she threw out, annoyed, not really expecting Angel to answer. This vamp was going to run her into the ground unless he gave her some kind of opening.  
  
Ask and ye shall receive, she quoted triumphantly, using a conveniently placed car, one she hadn't remembered noticing just second ago, to spring into the air and tackle the slender vamp. Not waiting to turn him over, she thrust the stake through his back as Angel came around the front of the car.  
  
"Where'd you pick up that trick?" he inquired, helping her to her feet. A bolt of sensation shot up her arm at the contact, their eyes meeting.  
  
"Strictly spur of the moment." She shivered slightly, returning his gaze as realization flowed through her. He still felt it as well. She covered his hand on her arm with her own, as always, grateful for his presence.  
  
Gently, he laced their fingers and tugged her back the way they'd run. "So, what's left on tonight's patrol?"  
  
The Slayer gave a small sigh, struck once again by the cruel joke the fates had played on them. Their love seemed to trap them instead of freeing them to share that love. Why can't my life be simple, she asked rhetorically for probably the thousandth time. Why can't I just be a normal girl, with a normal boyfriend and a normal life ahead of me?  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"What?" she asked, Angel's warm voice pulling her from her personal world of thought. "Oh. Yeah. We're done. It's been kind of slow so Giles thought I could use a little extra rest. You know, Ascension and all that."  
  
He stared down at her, concern obvious on his face. She knew her words were too fast, running over each other. "What's wrong?"  
  
She paused, unable to look at him and tell a lie. "It's nothing."  
  
Only he knew when she was lying. "You don't have Nothing Face. You have Something Face," he spoke gently, turning her own oft-used phrase back at her.  
  
"No, really," she insisted, starting down the road again. She would only hurt him if she told him what she was dwelling on. Their relationship was hard enough as it was. "Did you see how that vamp disappeared for a second? It was too weird. Maybe Giles will know how he did it."  
  
She heard his soft sigh as he followed her lead down the road. Grateful for his silent understanding, her hand tightened on his. She just wasn't ready to talk about it, especially to him. He was part of her troubles, one of the things that kept her awake so many nights. His hand returned the pressure, easing the ache that had started to creep up her chest. Warmth filled her at the gesture. He would always be there for her. It was a comforting thought.  
  
Carefully emptying her mind, Buffy enjoyed the comfortable in the silence that enveloped them. Their lives were chaotic to say the least, so quiet moments were rare, lending a specialness to their silent walk. A small tingle worked its way down her spine at the thought. It was a little too quiet for a Friday night in Sunnydale. Her eyes narrowed, taking in the street, the trash lining the gutters, the grills over shop fronts and the complete stillness surrounding them. A sudden shout shattered that stillness.  
  
"The alley," she pinpointed the source and took off. The sound of pounding feet and harsh breathing moved toward them as they planted themselves in the mouth of the alley the shout had originated in. She shot Angel a quick grin. "I guess patrol's not over just yet."  
  
Holding back a chuckle as he saluted her with his stake, she focused on the figures now emerging into the light. "Oz?" Buffy called, confused voice carrying easily over the din as the musician and another teen spilled into the street followed by four vampires. The vamps paused, seeing the newcomers armed with stakes.  
  
The Slayer stepped in front of Oz, twirling the stake between her fingers. Setting aside the questions skittering around her brain, she concentrated on the new threat. "Didn't your mother teach you not to play with your food?" Not bothering to wait for a response, she threw the stake with fatal accuracy and calmly reached for another. "Next?"  
  
The three other vamps exploded into action as she and Angel moved in concert away from the speechless Oz and the other teen, whom she'd finally figured out was Larry, the class bully of all people. Vamp number two came at her while three and four went after Angel. Always picking on the guy, she thought to herself, easily ducking a clumsy attempt to grab her shoulders. A single foot swipe brought the medium-sized male down on his back hard. Another quick move by the Slayer and number two was dust. Already shifting to help Angel, vamp dust floating around her ankles, the voice in the back of her head started murmuring. Something wasn't right. This was too easy.  
  
Vamps three and four exploded simultaneously as Buffy blocked another inept punch, striking with the stake quickly, Angel's movement almost identical. "Like I said," she smiled over at Angel as the last bit of vamp dust settled to the ground. "Patrol's over for tonight."  
  
He returned her infectious grin, reaching to give Oz a hand up from his seat on the concrete where he'd been strangely silent ever since his graceless fall when the Slayer and Angel had appeared at the mouth of the alley. Buffy froze when the easy-going werewolf thrust a cross in the vampire's face, the little voice growing louder. "Oz?" he questioned quietly, hurt and confusion plain to her ears. He'd once told her that the two of them had always respected each other, one non-human to the other. This unexpected turn had to cut more than he would ever admit.  
  
"What's your deal?" Galvanized into action, Buffy smacked the cross from his hand and pulled him upright in one smooth motion. "Are you tripping? Where's Willow?"  
  
Oz backed away from her hurriedly. "You're seeing them, too, right?" Catching Larry's nod out of the corner of her eye, she could only stare at them as the musician pulled another cross out of his pocket. What was going on? "You're Buffy. The Slayer Buffy?"  
  
She stared at him, unease working its way down her spine. "We're one for one in the names category. Who else would I be?"  
  
"You're dead."  
  
Whatever thoughts had been flying through her head disappeared at his words, the voice an insistent presence. She continued to stare at her friend, barely conscious of Angel's hand on her back. "What do you mean I'm dead?" The whispered words carried easily across the silent distance.  
  
"I mean, the Master killed you a week ago," he explained slowly, lowering the cross to his side. The confused expression never left his face. "I saw it. And your buddy, the vampire? He's dust. Xander got him, just before you killed Xander."  
  
She leaned back into Angel, unwilling to even process the thought of him dead again. That unease wormed its way through her, wrapping around her gut and squeezing. Something was wrong and she was getting the feeling that it wasn't Oz.  
  
Angel's hand tightened on her back, even in the midst of confusion sending a warm tingle down her spine. "Buffy, Oz is human."  
  
She whirled to face him, the tingle evaporated instantly. He merely stared back at her, confusion clouding his eyes. The past few minutes replayed in her mind: chasing the vamp, it disappearing, her headlong tumble, the jump onto a car that hadn't been there just moments ago. The cloud cleared from Angel's eyes just as she put it all together. "We're not in Kansas anymore?"  
  
"I'm getting that feeling," he agreed, taking her hand once more, gripping it tightly. She clung to him, mind not wanting to accept what had to be reality. They weren't in their Sunnydale and they had no idea how they'd gotten here, wherever 'here' was.  
  
"We need Giles."  
  
Their simultaneously spoken words would have made her smile if the situation hadn't been quite so freak-worthy. Oz's voice penetrated the clamoring voice in her head. "I take it you're acquainted with our fearless leader?"  
  
Buffy glanced up at her love. How do we answer this one? The question bounced silently back and forth between them. She looked back to de-werewolfed teen. "Sort of."  
  
Unexpectedly, Larry barked out a laugh. "Come on, Oz, a dead Slayer and a dead vampire? That's right up his alley. Besides, if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead by now." Silently, Buffy agreed as the maybe-not-the-class-bully jogged across the street to Oz's van and opened the door with a flourish. "After you."  
  
*****  
  
Buffy decided to upgrade the silence from tense to uncomfortable during the short ride to the school and its library. Glancing up, she caught Oz's gaze in the rearview mirror as he pulled into the parking lot. An unexpected grin covered his face, transforming him into the laid-back teen she knew. His eyes stayed on hers as he placed the van in park and flipped the engine off. What was he grinning about, she wondered, mouth opening to ask just that when he chuckled and answered before she spoke.  
  
"You have to take your laughs where you can these days," he stated, the smile fading. "We don't get many chances around here."  
  
She felt a surge of sympathy for this version of Sunnydale. She only had the Mayor to contend with, not the Master and his horde of vampire followers. Following the two teens across the parking lot and into the school, Buffy wondered what other surprises awaited her this evening. She and Angel hung back as Oz and Larry entered the library. "At least this is the same," she remarked to Angel, holding the door open.  
  
"Giles," Oz called, moving into the large room. "We, uh, ran into some acquaintances on patrol. You might want to talk with them."  
  
The librarian walked slowly out of his office, eyes still focused on the book he held before him. "Yes, of course." He stopped at the center table and placed the heavy volume down carefully before looking up. "I've found nothing so far to help..." he trailed off, confusion flashing over his face as Buffy smiled gently at him. "Ms. Summers?" A light entered his eyes for a split second before the resignation returned. "You're dead," he spoke quietly, grief leaking from the soft words.  
  
"So I've heard. But that wasn't me." She stared up at him, so different, yet the same, as her Giles. He looked tired, haggard even. What had he gone through without her here? Could one person really make that much of a difference? Could she make a difference here? But first, how to explain their presence in a world where they no longer existed? "Would the name Anyanka mean anything to you?"  
  
"Anyanka," he repeated quietly. "She granted a wish that seems to have had an adverse effect on our world."  
  
The Slayer smiled slightly at the understatement, still trying to wrap her brain around the idea that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. "You mean on your world. Angel and I were chasing a vamp and he disappeared in mid-run for a split second. The next thing I knew we were here. There was no little door, no flash of light, nada. My mom and my Giles are going to be wigging hard if I don't get back there."  
  
"Are you implying that you've been brought here from a, well, a parallel universe?" he stuttered out, disbelief clear in his voice.  
  
Exchanging glances with Angel, Buffy took a deep breath, not sure they weren't all going to bust out laughing at her. "Yes."  
  
Giles didn't laugh. He began pacing the large open area in front of the main table, handkerchief out to polish his glasses. "A parallel universe. And you think Anyanka did this? What you're describing doesn't seem to fall into her pattern. No, I don't think she could have sent you here. I destroyed her powercenter a week ago. Then the questions are: who did and for what reason?" He paused, turning to look at Buffy. She could almost see his thoughts as they flew through his mind, contemplating the repercussions of her presence. Suddenly, his face softened and a gentle smile lifted his lips. "You're very different from her."  
  
She stared at him, taken aback by the observation. "I'm me. How could I be different?"  
  
"For one thing, you never lived here in Sunnydale," Oz's voice answered. She looked over to where he sat on the table, legs kicking idly. He and Larry had been talking quietly since they'd entered the library. Now they stared back at her expectantly. For what, she had no idea.  
  
The implications of her home being somewhere else slowly sinking in, she turned back to Giles. "If I never lived in Sunnydale, then you couldn't have been my Watcher." She stopped, the next thought creating an ache deep inside her. Slowly, she turned to Angel, who again, was thinking the same thing her mind kept rejecting as impossible. "I never would have met you." Her heart wept for the other Slayer who had had none of the exceptional people in her life that she had. "She must have been very lonely."  
  
Giles didn't respond, the non-reply telling her what he could not. She felt Angel's hand cupping her shoulder, lending what support he could. Never again would she complain about her family, her friends if she got back. Not if, she reprimanded herself. When, when you get back.  
  
"You're lucky to have people around you who care..." the older man said, moving closer to where she stood for the first time. His eyes widened behind the glasses as he stared at her, mind working furiously once again. "My counterpart is your Watcher?"  
  
"Yeah," she stated simply, ignoring the fact that Giles wasn't officially her Watcher anymore. "So we've got a couple questions on the table," she quickly steered the topic toward things easier to deal with. "How? That's your department, not mine. Why? I'm going to go with a certain Master who's in desperate need of killing, which I've done once before I might add. And now I'm going to add another question. How do we get back?" She purposefully ignored the shiver that worked its way down her spine as well as the shocked faces of the others at her blithe dismissal of the Master. That was another one she'd deal with later. Things were too muddled in her brain to work that one out.  
  
The Watcher's eyebrows rose as she ticked off points on one hand, obviously taken aback by her abrupt sense of humor. "The 'how' may take care of itself, actually. If you were sent here for a particular reason, then it's quite possible you'll simply be returned when your task is complete."  
  
Buffy took one look around the library, her home away from home. Now, literally, away from home. "Then let's get to work. We've got some researching to do."  
  
*****  
  
Giles started slightly as Buffy closed her book with a thud, sighing. This Buffy Summers had as much patience as the other one had had. She glanced over at Angel, pulling his attention. "This is getting us nowhere. We need Willow."  
  
A startled silence settled over the room. Giles cleared his throat delicately before speaking. "Willow Rosenberg?"  
  
"Duh, is there another Willow in this High School?" Her eyes flicked between Giles and the two teens. They could only stare back, expressions solemn. Giles saw when it clicked, when the knowledge came back to her. Another sigh escaped as she continued, "Oh, right. Evil Willow in this world. Whatever happened to her anyway?"  
  
"She's dead."  
  
The older man felt a tug of grief at Oz's softly spoken words. He'd only known her for such a short time, too short for the level of pain he always experienced when forced to remember her loss. Willow Rosenberg had been a shy, quiet, but brilliant young woman. It was one of the things he regretted the most about not being able to stop the vampires that had attacked her, that he'd never get to see her turn into the woman he knew she could become. The vampire she'd been was a cruel mockery of that woman.  
  
"Okay," Buffy stated decisively. "Oz, you're good with computers, aren't you?"  
  
He slowly closed the tome on the table in front of him. "I've done my share of hacking."  
  
She jumped to her feet, giving Giles the impression she was ready to do something other then look at dusty books. "Well get cracking. Find anything and everything that could have brought us here. Giles," she whirled to face him, startling a second tiny jump out of him. "We need to know more about what's going on here. Is there anything in town we have to worry about aside from the Master? You know, Fish Monsters, Ethan Rayne, Balthazar, Richard Wilkins, *anything* else that we could have been brought here for. 'Cause I'm kind of looking forward to killing the Master again."  
  
Giles vaguely heard Oz's, "I guess I'm computer guy," as the Slayer directed Larry to keep searching the books. This Buffy was a well-oiled machine, used to working with a group. The one he'd met a week ago had told him she didn't play well with others. Did she have fellow soldiers in her struggle in her world? Why had his counterpart allowed it? Before the Master had risen, secrecy had been imperative. And that had been an impressive list of enemies she had thrown out so blithely.  
  
The thought stopped him from rising with the others. Ethan? How did she know about Ethan? Had he come to her Sunnydale? Had he come looking for Giles, for Ripper, and ended up tangling with the Slayer? A swift anger bubbled up, stealing his breath. The damned fool had no business showing his face in Giles' town. If Ethan ever decides to come here, Giles started the thought, anger simmering higher. But he never completed it as Buffy's voice broke through the red haze that clouded his vision. Slowly, he focused back in on the decisions going on without him.  
  
"While these guys are doing the Watcher thingie, you and I can head over and see if Willy is still alive in this Bizarroland." She grabbed her jacket from her chair, before Angel caught her arm. Giles read the question in her eyes before the dark-haired man spoke.  
  
"I've got less than an hour."  
  
The librarian frowned at the words, comprehension beyond him. But the Slayer obviously knew what he was talking about as she straightened, lips tightening. What was going on? The Slayer and the dark haired man stared at each other, oblivious to the others in their silent communication. Giles looked back and forth between Oz and Larry, whose sudden stillness had told him they knew more than he did. Buffy took a careful step forward, moving in front of Angel. A frown creased the Watcher's face as she took another couple of steps, not so subtly putting maneuvering space between him and the man behind her. What was he missing?  
  
"Giles, have you ever read about a vampire named Angelus?" she asked slowly, meeting his eyes solidly.  
  
"Angelus," he repeated, memory stirring. "He disappeared around the turn of the century after cutting a bloody swath through Europe. Why do you bring him up?" A pit formed in his stomach as Buffy took yet another step, his brilliant mind flying. What was it that Oz and Larry had told him about the fight in the Master's factory? The Slayer and a vampire had died. The Slayer and a... His eyes met deep brown ones over a blonde head and knew. "Angelus."  
  
Instinct sent him back a step, hand reaching for one of the numerous stakes on the table. Before he could get out his intended warning to Oz and Larry, Buffy's flying tackle took him to the floor. Struggling to pull oxygen into his lungs, one thought floated slowly through his mind, Good Lord, the girl is fast. Her words began to penetrate the haze that had formed from his meeting with the hard tile as he realized that she was merely holding him in place.  
  
"...Gypsy curse. Think about it, Giles. He's on our side. He stopped killing when he got his soul back. He's our friend. He'd never hurt any of us. Or anyone." It was a litany that kept repeating in his ear, processing slowly as tension began to leak out of him.  
  
Brain wrestling control back from pure instinct, the Watcher nodded at the slender girl restraining him. "Sorry about that," he said as she slowly let him up. Meeting Angel's eyes again, he searched their depths for confirmation of her explanation. The vampire hadn't moved, letting Giles come to grips with the unexpected news. "My reaction was instinctive," he spoke quietly, apology inherent in his tone at the pain he found in the other's eyes.  
  
Angel nodded slightly, a small smile flitting over his features. "It took our Giles a while to accept it, too."  
  
He continued to stare at the vampire before him, adrenaline ebbing, leaving him lightheaded. Of all the things he was expecting, that one had never crossed his mind. Angelus... Now that was irony of the highest order. Everything he'd read about the 'Scourge of Europe' had been bloody, disturbing and downright evil. And yet the smile he gave the Slayer was loving, gentle. It was one she returned as well.  
  
Buffy grimaced as she met Giles' gaze. "We kind of forgot to mention this all before, you know, with all the wiggy stuff going on. But the point is, Giles, he needs a place to stay. Fast."  
  
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Once again, thank you to all who responded after reading this. Ivy was one of those people and with her insightful comments I've reworked these first two sections, hopefully making them better in the process. Part 2 is in the works, so don't give up yet. I've got a slow turn around time, but I'll try to make it worth your time and patience.  
  
Happy reading!  
  
Eleri 


	3. Buffy Summers 101

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Author's notes: First I must thank Ivy. She's been fantastic and encouraging and everything a writer could ask for in a beta. Danke schöne, merci beaucoup, grazi.  
  
And to all the so-patient readers who wrote and asked for more - these pages are for you.  
  
Finally, any and all feedback is appreciated and accepted with humble thanks.  
  
(c) Eleri McCleod, July 2003  
  
*******************  
  
Giles froze in the kitchen, kettle still in hand as the quiet words from the couple in the main room floated through the open section of the wall to him. Glancing quickly through the three by four foot opening, he saw they were focused on each other and not on the Watcher struggling not to eavesdrop on them. His tea forgotten, he set the kettle down on the counter next to the cup, unable to turn away from the scene before him. Worry had shadowed his thinking ever since he'd invited Angel, a vampire, the Scourge of Europe, into his apartment. But the scene continuing in front of him held him transfixed, softening that fear.  
  
"I'm just going over to Willy's to ask him a few questions," the Slayer stated again, jacket in hand, heading for the door. "That is if he's still around in Bizarroland."  
  
Angel mirrored her movement around the couch, grasping her arm. "Wait until nightfall. It'll be safe for me to go with you then."  
  
"I can't wait that long. If anyone still alive knows what the Master is up to, it'll be that little snitch."  
  
Giles tensed as the vampire frowned down at her, Angel's face in full view. She's the Slayer, he reminded himself, halting the urge to separate her from the other man before it could translate into movement. He could only hope she really did know what she was doing.  
  
"Then take Oz with you," Angel insisted, staring down at her, face intent.  
  
Immediately, she shook her head. "He's not a werewolf here. He's just an ordinary guy."  
  
"He's another pair of eyes."  
  
"He's canon fodder."  
  
Stifling the chuckle that was threatening to rise, Giles could only smile at the rapid-fire words coming from the pair. They sounded for all the world like an old married couple arguing over what television program to watch. The two stared at one another, neither willing to give in.  
  
Suddenly, Angel let her arm go, shoving his hands through his hair. "You are so stubborn."  
  
Giles could only picture Buffy's pleased smile with her back to him, but somehow he knew it was there. That same smile dripped from her tone when she tossed back, "Thank you. Now can I go or are you going to obsess some more?"  
  
The aggravated expression slowly melted from the vampire's face, replaced by a startlingly naked fear. "Please. There are more things than just the Master that want you dead."  
  
The quietly spoken words did more than all the insistence had despite their brevity. Buffy stepped forward quickly, dropping her jacket unceremoniously on the back of the couch as she reached for his hands. "I'll go by his place on the way. Deal?"  
  
Suddenly feeling like the intruder he hadn't just moments ago, Giles shifted so he couldn't see them. He'd just witnessed something deeply personal, something he'd had no right to see. But he couldn't wish it unseen. It had been the fear in the vampire's eyes that had made her give in. Fear for the Slayer, his natural enemy. The last bit of unease faded from his chest. He would come to no harm from Angel.  
  
Their parting words were muffled, too low for him to hear as he reached for the kettle once again, galvanizing himself into action. If he appeared with tea in hand, maybe it wouldn't broadcast that he'd heard their entire exchange. If Angel had seen, maybe he would be good enough to overlook it. The water steamed gently as he poured carefully, filling the ceramic mug with just enough room for cream. As the front door closed with its customary thud, Giles took a deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen.  
  
Studiously avoiding Angel's eyes, he made his way to the overflowing table, balancing his tea with far too much attention. He'd never been a good actor. Maybe if he broke the silence he could ignore the tension building inaudibly between them. "What was Buffy referring to when she spoke of Richard Wilkins earlier? He's the Mayor of Sunnydale, what's left of it."  
  
"I could never hurt her."  
  
Giles stilled as the words fell between them. So he'd noticed after all and let it go on anyway. Meeting Angel's gaze, he froze, stunned by the emotions he found within the dark depths. Love, sorrow, pain and determination. They clamored in the vampire's eyes, screaming over each other to be heard. Leaving his tea to the company of the numerous books spilling all over the table, the Watcher swallowed, trying to clear the lump gathering in his throat. "I'm beginning to believe that."  
  
"She tries not to let it bother her, but I know it does. The whole vampire thing," he clarified at Giles' upraised brows. "I love her. I would die if it would keep her safe."  
  
"Not an ideal match, vampire and Slayer," he commented softly, not wanting to ruin the opening Angel had given him. He was lost as to why the other man had begun this intensely personal conversation while at the same time loathe to let it pass by.  
  
Nodding slowly, Angel moved a few steps back into the room. "You could say that. It's been a rough year." His eyes darkened as memory shifted beneath his features. Somehow Giles knew he wasn't exaggerating.  
  
"What happened? To Angelus, I mean. The Watcher Journals simply state that he, you, seemed to drop off the face of the Earth around the turn of the century. And in all honesty I wasn't quite myself when Buffy had me pinned to floor earlier." He searched Angel's face, a little guilty at feeling a touch excited to finally have one of the greatest mysteries of his childhood explained.  
  
His father had let him read through the Watcher Journals he'd kept at home once he'd been old enough to understand them. Young Giles had spent countless hours surrounded by stories of Slayers and the vampires and demons they'd fought. Angelus had been a legend in his time, a demon of the worst order. The young boy he'd been had cried the first time he'd come across a passage about the 'Scourge of Europe.' The brutality, the sheer viciousness of the attack faithfully recounted had left him bruised inside. For almost one hundred and fifty years Angelus had been unstoppable. Then one day, pouring over a particularly long volume, the reports had merely ceased with not another entry to be found on the demon. No Watcher had heard of an attack, no Slayer had had a meeting, no vampire had revealed any information leading to Angelus' whereabouts. He'd simply vanished.  
  
Giles had wondered for a long time what had become of the vampire before his studies had ended the thought of spare time for contemplation. Angelus had become a footnote in the annals of Watcher history and a forgotten memory in the young man's mind. Now that memory stood before him, ready to tell him the chapter that had been missing from that old Journal.  
  
"I killed a Gypsy girl. Her clan cursed me by returning my soul. All the people I'd murdered, all the destruction I'd caused, and suddenly I had a conscience to care about them."  
  
The stark sentences left out what Giles could only imagine in his nightmares. The screams of the dying, the faces of the dead, the mere knowledge of knowing that he'd caused the horrors Giles had only read about in his books. The Gypsies had chosen well. "In the end, isn't it better this way? You can make up for the past, for everything Angelus ever did..." he trailed off, mind working swiftly. It was too neat, his simple plan. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. "What am I missing?"  
  
"It wasn't enough to merely suffer for everything I'd done. They wanted me to suffer throughout the rest of eternity. There was one thing that could make me lose my soul again, one tiny stipulation they failed to mention." Angel's expression closed in on itself, a mask of indifference that might have fooled the observant Watcher had he not just witnessed the gentle moment between the vampire and the Slayer. "We found out too late."  
  
"Your soul wasn't permanent?" Giles asked, confused by the contradiction. Why would the Gypsies want a return of the creature they had sworn to torment? And how could Angel be standing before him if Angelus had returned. The unease crept back into his gut.  
  
A tight swallow clenched Angel's throat briefly before he answered. "Only one true moment of happiness could take it away."  
  
Confusion battled with the unease as he stared across the short distance to the other man. 'Happiness?' The Gypsies had made a rule out of 'happiness?' What did that have to do with- Confusion cleared abruptly, the unease turning to lead that filled his stomach. The Slayer's tenderness of minutes ago, the vampire's gentle eyes whenever he looked at her. 'Happiness' indeed. "Buffy." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Buffy." The vampire answered anyway. "Like I said, we found out too late."  
  
Silence reigned in the room as Giles struggled to absorb the knowledge slapping him in the face. The nightmarish pictures returned to batter at his stunned brain, leaving him empty. That poor young woman, he thought, unable to fathom what she had gone through when her gentle companion had become the Angelus he'd read so many horrifying things about. "How did you get it back?" He didn't bother to ask 'if.' The fact that Giles was still alive after being in the same room with the vampire was proof enough.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg. I tried to kill her twice and she still did this for me, for Buffy." A smile covered his face, chasing some of the shadows away. "She's a special person."  
  
"I never really met her," the Watcher admitted solemnly, the same feeling of inexplicable loss from the library coming over him. "She was merely a quiet student who came in to get books. She died not long after I came to Sunnydale."  
  
"Because Buffy wasn't here to stop it." Angel shook his head, the smile fading. "You should see them, Giles, they're practically unstoppable together. But Willow's emerging wiccan powers can't change a century-old Gypsy curse." Their eyes met and held, the vampire's frustration and anger at the situation burning in his eyes.  
  
Giles stood calmly before the emotional outburst, strangely not worried in the slightest. His reservations about Angel seemed to vanish as the sincerity of his words broke through a lifetime of training. This vampire posed no threat to him or to Oz or Larry, just as Buffy had said. "Perhaps you'll allow me do some research on this. I have many rare volumes at my disposal."  
  
Staring at the librarian, shock plain on his face, Angel nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'd appreciate it. Just don't tell Buffy. I don't want to get any hopes up or anything."  
  
"I understand." Feeling more in control with the questions he'd been afraid to ask answered, he took a small sip of his cooling tea. "Now what was this Buffy mentioned about Richard Wilkins?"  
  
*****  
  
"I've just got to ask: what am I doing here again?" Oz shut the van door solidly, meeting Buffy as she made her way around the hood.  
  
"You're an extra pair of eyes," she stated cryptically, heading for the entrance of what she'd referred to earlier as "the worm's little hidey-hole." She paused, hand reaching for one of her pockets instead of the door. "I know it's broad daylight, but humor me, okay?"  
  
Since it really hadn't been a question, he didn't bother answering. He grasped the stake lightly, eyeing the Slayer as she pushed the door open. A grin flitted over his face, tucking the sharpened piece of wood in his waistband under his shirt. This Slayer was beginning to grow on him.  
  
The interior looked like any other bar he'd seen on TV and had played in with the Dingoes before they'd had to disband. Wooden floors, tables, chairs, bar, stools, everything he would have expected. The bartender was wiping glasses as Buffy walked straight up to him, a smile Oz could only classify as 'satisfied' on her face.  
  
"I don't serve no underagers here," the small man said fastidiously, a complete opposite from his greased back hair and oily smile. Oz instantly knew he couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. Was this Buffy's source of information? The slimy man continued, "I got a reputation to maintain."  
  
Buffy snorted inelegantly, as convinced as Oz of the man's sincerity. "Right, Willy. You sure have 'got a reputation.' How about you tell me what I want to know and I'll leave that 'rep' intact." The thinly veiled threat was accompanied by a bright smile.  
  
A frown wiping the smirk from his face, Willy obviously wanted to know how the girl before him knew his name. "I don't got to tell you nothing. Now how about you move on out of here before you get yourself hurt," he stressed the pronoun slightly. "This can be a dangerous town for a pretty little girl like you."  
  
Instantly, Oz knew that had been the wrong thing for the bartender to say to the Slayer. Her hand shot out, grabbing Willy by the neck and slamming his face into the bar. The towel dropped to the ground, glass from the other hand shattering as it struck hard wood. Freezing in shock, Oz could only stare in amazed fascination. He had barely seen her move and suddenly Willy's face was contorted with pain and fear, pressed hard into the grain of the bar. That single act was more like the Slayer he'd met over a week ago than anything she'd said or done since she and that vampire had appeared in the alley. Doubt crept into his gut. He'd seen her die. The Master had broken her neck. This couldn't be the same girl, could it?  
  
"Since you're not the Willy I usually deal with," Buffy spoke companionably, easily holding the squirming rat down by his neck alone, "I'll forgive the pathetic attempt at 'tough guy talk.' My name's Buffy and I'm the Slayer. You're Willy and you're going to tell me everything I want to know."  
  
"You can't be the Slayer. She's in Cleveland," he insisted, hands groping for purchase on the slick wood of the bar. "We don't got a Slayer here."  
  
"Well, you do now. What's the Master up to?"  
  
Oz couldn't hold back a grin. He absolutely loved the way this young woman, this Buffy, operated. He'd been annoyed when she'd showed up at his place, dragging him back out into the sunlight after he'd just managed to get himself to sleep, a task he was finding much too hard lately. Her pounding had jolted him to the door with a serious case of the ugly. Now, watching her squeeze information out of the bartender, he was glad she'd dragged him along. He was having the most fun he'd had since the Harvest.  
  
"One last thing, Willy," she stated simply when she'd finally run out of questions. "Who are you going to tell about our little chat?"  
  
"No one! I ain't gonna tell no one."  
  
It seemed that was the answer she'd been looking for since she released her grip on his neck, allowing him to scramble away from her to the relative safety behind the bar. "If you gave me bad info, Willy," she started, hands gripping the rounded edge of wood in front of her.  
  
"No, it's all good, I promise," he interrupted her, pathetically anxious to stay on her good side.  
  
Buffy smiled sweetly as she backed away, wiping her hands together to rid them of any part of Willy or the bar that clung to them. "I'll be back later if I need anything else."  
  
Slightly behind her as the Slayer made her way to the door, Oz held in a chuckle as Willy grabbed a towel from the counter, mopping the sweat from his face. Oh, she is good, he thought appreciatively as the door blocked out his last sight of Willy the Snitch. Somehow Oz didn't think the bartender was looking forward to a second meeting.  
  
Buffy was at the van and waiting impatiently for him, arms crossed over her chest and foot dancing against the ground. "Let's get back to Giles'. I need to compare notes and see what kind of plan we can come up with. I don't like how this is beginning to shape up in my head." Her eyes lost their unfocused stare as she met his, expression serious. "This is going to get ugly."  
  
With that cheerful remark, she climbed into the can, leaving Oz to gape in her wake. What had she pieced together, he wondered, pushing himself into motion around the van's hood. Maybe she'd be more forthcoming at Giles'. A quick glance over to his passenger confirmed his thought. She had drawn into herself, face a study in concentration. Sighing quietly, Oz started the engine, ready to head back to the librarian's home. Maybe this time their attempt to destroy the Master wouldn't end in defeat. This changed Slayer actually just might be enough to win.  
  
*****  
  
Third cup of tea empty and long forgotten, Giles listened intently as Angel concluded his brief history of Buffy Summers' tour of duty as the Slayer . The young woman had been through more than he could have possibly imagined in three years. Ethan Rayne had come to Sunnydale and Giles had barely suppressed a whoop of triumph when he'd heard how both his counterpart and the Slayer had taken their turns mangling the wretched man. But the sorrows and losses of the years pulled at his insides. Two Slayers dead, and while one had been revived, the other had had no chance. Teachers, students, innocent townspeople, all lost because of the Hellmouth. Even if they defeated the Master, it seemed their struggle was far from over. And they still wouldn't have a Slayer.  
  
"You said Xander brought her back, correct?" He waited for Angel's confirmation before continuing his thought. "And since you have no idea how long she'd been dead, we have no way to determine if it takes a few seconds or a few minutes for a new Slayer to be called." Realizing too late how cold he sounded, he shrugged apologetically. "It could have been very important information for the future."  
  
"Have you discovered who the new Slayer is?" Angel asked, accepting the Watcher's look with a nod. "She may be able to help."  
  
But Giles was already shaking his head. "I've spoken with Ms. Summers' Watcher. I informed him and the Council of her death. The Council believes it's easier if the previous Watcher doesn't meet or speak with the new Slayer, at least for some time." He'd never been assigned a Slayer, something he'd dreamed of all his life. And then he'd met Buffy Summers and had been confronted with the most unpleasant part of his job, the one he'd only read about. "A Watcher and his Slayer can become very close, despite the Council's rules and warnings against it."  
  
"I know. Our Giles is like a father to her."  
  
A swell of pride filled his chest at Angel's simple statement. He had made a difference in that young woman's life. Well, not him exactly, but Rupert Giles had made a difference. "I'm glad to hear that, although I'm sure the Council would have a few undesirable things to say about it." Their eyes met, Giles reading the truth of his words in the other's face. "Yes, well, back to our current situation. Have you given any thought as to how to defeat the Master?" Unhappy with the abrupt, although necessary change of subject, he closed his mind on the thoughts. He and the Council had always been at odds over their view of the Slayer as a tool only and not a living person with a soul. He'd let the thoughts out when he could afford the distraction.  
  
"Hopefully, Buffy will have more information when she gets back. She was right. If Willy is still alive, he's the rat to ask." Angel, bless the man, went along with his topic shift without missing a beat. The vampire knew even more than he did about uncomfortable subjects. "From what it sounds like, we need to take out that factory as soon as possible. The Master could do a lot of damage with that machine of his."  
  
"I agree," Giles nodded, rising to put the kettle on again. Buffy and Oz would be arriving any minute if everything went as she'd hoped. "The problem is we can't get anyone inside. There are too many guards and too few of us."  
  
A grim smile covered Angel's face as the Watcher returned from the kitchen area. "That shouldn't be a problem."  
  
Pausing at the vampire's flat tone, a matching expression covered his face. Between the combined power of the Slayer and this vampire, Giles began to hope once again. Maybe they could do it. Maybe they could rid the world of the Master after all. That thought stopped the hope from expanding within him. What were they supposed to do after defeating him? The Hellmouth would still be present beneath the town and demons of all species would be drawn to it. Quickly, he slammed the door on those thoughts, blocking them in with all the others he didn't have the time to deal with. One catastrophe at a time, he told himself as the sound of heels striking tile bled through the door, interrupting his internal conversation.  
  
"And that should be them now." He made his way to the door, still battling his discouraging thoughts. They needed to hear what Buffy had to say. Then he could open his box and worry. 


End file.
